


Down the Rabbithole

by Aurum_Auri



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 'let's end this', Alpha Victor, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Space, Breeding Kink, Bunny Person AU, Dubious Consent, Fashion Show, Heat Sex, Lactation Kink, M/M, Nipple Play, Omega Yuuri, Omegaverse, Size Kink, Soulmates, Victor and Yuuri are alien rabbit people, bunny hierarchy, but victor isn't about that life, hermaphrodite omegas, soul mates, surprise heat, this is completely normal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-02-23 08:06:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13185879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri/pseuds/Aurum_Auri
Summary: Victor Nikiforov was the most renowned fashion designer in the known galaxy, and easily the most famous non-human designer. Yuuri only idolized the man for most of his life.But Yuuri is left baffled when he's offered the chance to model for Victor Nikiforov in the most hotly anticipated fashion show of the year. Things only get worse when his own biology gets in the way, leading to some messy complications Yuuri never expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nyerus (dragonmist310)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonmist310/gifts).



> This is a (very late, I am SO SORRY) secret santa gift fic for the amazing and wonderfully talented Nyerus. I wanted to write a fic featuring some of your favorite tropes so I hope you like it <3 <3 <3
> 
> PS: I'll de-anon when you guess who I am ;)  
> Edit: that was fast Nye ILU I hope you like it when you finally finish your exams <3

They met in neutral territory, the only two Lapaki in the room. A sea of aliens pushed past them: humans, mostly, but a few sithins and baiorins, all of them beautiful, talented, or rich, or some combination thereof.

Yuuri could smell him from across the room.

Instinct screamed at him to do something, mark the territory as his, run the intruder away, but propriety held him back. There was only one Lapaki it could be, anyway.

Victor Nikiforov. Once the top model in the galaxy, now one of the most sought-after designers of their generation. Yuuri’s idol. He could smell the Lapaki coming closer.

He had to keep from grabbing Phichit’s wrist in a burst of nerves. His friend was human and couldn’t smell the anxious mixture of scents weeping out of Yuuri’s scent glands. For the best. It was embarrassing enough even if Mr. Nikiforov was the only one picking up on them.

It shouldn’t have been a concern. This was a big room, and Yuuri had smelled the man at the periphery of his attention for most of the night. The after-party was for rubbing elbows with models, designers, artists, image consultants, managers, and anyone else with a say in how the next Linerus Fashion Week would play out.

Sure, it was months away. But preparations for the next always started long before the previous event ended. It was an intergalactic affair of mindblowing proportions, a delicate balance of who’s-who that was at the top of everyone’s priorities.

Mr. Nikiforov belonged here. He was the elite, the best of the best. His premier slots in the week were for his human couture and for lingerie that was quickly becoming the most anticipated line of the year.

Yuuri was the catastrophe, the fuck up, the one who was only here because Phichit had a plus one and because Yuuri wasn’t sure what to do with his life.

Granted, he was also the one who donned heels and a dress with a slit so high up the thigh it made even Phichit raise an eyebrow, so maybe Yuuri wasn’t as unsure as he liked to think. Attention could mean a new job, and after the disaster two months ago, Yuuri could use whatever attention he could get. He’d had well enough of being depressed.

But that didn’t change the facts. “ _Victor Nikiforov_ is walking toward us,” Yuuri hissed.

“You don’t know that,” Phichit said.

Yuuri felt like the frightened rabbits humans loved to compare Lapaki to. He wanted to bolt. He wanted to drop to his knees. He wanted to run Victor out. His instincts were flaring and Yuuri struggled to breathe. “He looked at me, Phichit. Made eye contact. And now he’s coming closer.”

“Well okay, he wants to talk to you,” Phichit said, beaming. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? You’re the one with half a closet full of his designs.”

“That’s different,” Yuuri hissed. “He has no reason to come over here and talk to me.”

“I mean, maybe he wants you to model for him,” Phichit suggested. Yuuri broke away from watching Mr. Nikiforov weave through the crowd, politely greeting people he passed but unmistakably making his way closer, to glare at his friend.

“I'm the laughingstock of the fashion industry. The only reason anyone has heard of me was because of how badly I ruined the showcase for Celestino’s new line. No one actually wants me.”

“You fell off the stage, big deal,” Phichit said. He waved it off. “You didn't have to quit over it. Celestino wasn't angry.”

“He should have been,” Yuuri retorted. He could smell Mr. Nikiforov better now, and Yuuri was struck with a painful revelation he could have done without. Under the crisp cologne and the natural scent of flowers, Yuuri smelled a virile, musky undercurrent on the air. His knees trembled. “Oh my god.”

“What, what’s wrong?” Phichit asked.

Mr. Nikiforov stopped before them, expression neutral but pleasant. His hair swept perfectly across his forehead, pale as his long, white ears pricked up tall on his head, his black on black on black suit looking devastating in contrast with the white of his fur.

An alpha.

He extended his hand in greeting, flat, the palm facing Yuuri and the fingers pointed upward. Yuuri warily placed his hand against it. He leaned forward, and their foreheads touched in a traditional Lapaki greeting.

The scent swirled around him, sharp with joy. He opened his eyes to find Victor’s were twinkling. Strange, but nothing Yuuri couldn’t handle.

At least, not until Mr. Nikiforov brought his free hand up, gently combing his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. The touch was gentle, a little intimate, and far, far more than Yuuri was expecting.

He rocketed backwards in shock, bumping rudely into another party goer. Even his ears were pricked sharply up, his tail twitching. He stammered out apologies to both. His face was hot.

Phichit gave him a questioning look.

Yuuri gave him an “I’ll explain later” sort of glare, before forcing himself to look Victor in the eye, despite how taken aback he was. Yuuri straightened his shoulders.

“I was rather hoping I’d see you here tonight,” Mr. Nikiforov murmured, smiling at Yuuri.

“Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri managed, his relatively even tone only a little forced.

Meeting his idol was stressful enough without the added bonus of Mr. Nikiforov being Lapaki as well. Meeting their own kind was always stressful. There was a reason Lapaki were a novelty among humans. They tended to range far and wide across the stars. You could go your whole life and never see more than two or three. They were a spectacle, especially for humans that blanketed planets in numbers and ogled at anything that was different from them.

Two standing together was already attracting attention. Yuuri had spent enough time with humans to know Lapaki behavior was not considered ‘normal’. The touches to establish dominance, the scents, the back and forth, the delicate hierarchies. It didn’t exist the same way it did with humans or other races. It had made him feel alien, unsure, for years.

His idol submitting like that, reaching out to groom Yuuri… it was more surprising than Yuuri dared admit.

Victor flashed a winning smile. “Enjoying the night? Would you like a drink?”

“Ah, no, I’d rather not tonight,” he said delicately, wondering if it would be rude not to return the gesture. He decided enough people were staring already. “Is there a reason you wanted to talk?”

His mind was screaming. Why would Mr. Nikiforov want to talk? There had to be a reason he'd want to exchange pleasantries at a party, especially one where there were thousands of more attractive models to be talking to, models that didn’t reek of anxious Lapaki.

“Right to business,” Victor said with a laugh. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in a potential collaboration between us. A position recently opened up in the lineup for my next major show, and I was hoping you’d be willing to fill it.”

“What?” Yuuri asked.

“I like to take a real hands-on approach to my shows, but I really don’t feel like putting out a casting call when the perfect model for my new line is standing right in front of me. I can get in touch with your agent, if you’d like me to. Please say you’ll consider it,” Victor said.

“... what?” Yuuri breathed. His eyes were wide, so painfully wide it hurt.

“I want you as my model, Yuuri Katsuki.”

* * *

Yuuri was nothing special as far as Lapaki went, boring even for an omega. Two-toned ears, black as his hair at the bottom, fading to a soft cream color at the tips. A stubby, tufted little tail at the base of his spine.

Humans thought Lapaki looked like rabbits. Lapaki thought rabbits looked like them. Other than the ears and tails, visually, they were nearly indistinguishable from humans, so the ‘chicken and the egg’ discussion was endless about which came first.

So ‘nothing special Lapaki Yuuri’ was still struck speechless three days later when he had boarded the spacecraft headed for the planet where Victor had set up shop, Ionope 14.

Phichit was on the onboard display, laughing at Yuuri’s nervous twitching. “How long do you have to stay?”

“Not long, I hope,” Yuuri said uneasily. “Victor’s scent is… very strong. There’s a reason you don’t see our kind living together often, and why we don't have cities of our own.”

“I thought it was because you loved humans,” Phichit teased.

“Humans are fine,” Yuuri said. “Humans don’t stink up the place. Unless they forget to bathe.”

“But I’m your favorite,” Phichit said with a leading smile.

Yuuri laughed. “Yes, you’re my favorite.” His smile slipped away. “But… Victor is an alpha. What if this is a joke?”

“Why would it be a joke?” Phichit asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Yuuri scoffed loudly, turning away in the uncomfortable bed. The room was empty otherwise. Spacecraft, even transport class ships, were never very comfortable, and the room Yuuri had booked for the weeklong flight was about the size of his closet back home. About as comfortable as well, for the exorbitant price Yuuri had booked his passage at.

The ship was docking in the star system for a scant three hours, and Yuuri was going to have to take another three day long shuttle trip to get to Ionope 14.

That was far, far too much time to sit and stew about this.

Yuuri knew he was a relative unknown in the fashion world. He played things safe and bided his time. No one knew him, not since the fuck up. But… this was his dream. He'd wanted to model for Victor for longer than the Lapaki had been pushing out designs.

As a child, Yuuri had dreamed of walking the runway with him. Victor was an ex-model who had gone rogue, an icon who had once, as legend had it, thrown out his designer’s works and paraded on stage stark naked instead.

The next day he quit and announced that he would be starting his own line. Sometimes he even modeled his own works, still as beautiful as the day he left the runway.

Yuuri fell backwards onto his bed. This was definitely a cruel joke. He never should have come.

“He's an alpha, for one,” Yuuri settled on, after a moment of thought. “Alphas are like… hmm, how do I put in in a way humans will understand?”

“Thanks,” Phichit scoffed. He was still smiling, so he didn't seem too angry. “But really, you were acting really strange. I've never seen you so shaken by anyone. Even if he is your idol.”

“I wasn't shaken!” Yuuri said. “Just… a bit surprised. If he's an alpha, though, it makes sense. Alphas… they’re just…”

“Are you smiling?” Phichit asked.

Yuuri’s cheeks felt hot. “No! And it doesn't even matter what he is.”

“Fine, I'll just google it,” Phichit said. “Byee!”

“Phichit wait-”

“You know I've been googling shit about Lapaki since you became my roommate. And Google doesn't clam up when I get to the juicy bits. Sorry, not sorry, bye!” Phichit added, before the display winked out. Yuuri groaned, covering his face in his hands.

* * *

Yuuri was anxiously shifting. The city smelled like _Victor_. It shouldn’t have, the place was massive. But hints of it were carried on the breeze, through buildings clawing at the skies miles above his head, so faint it would have been easy to miss if Yuuri wasn’t looking for it.

The city smelled _owned_. It smelled like someone else’s territory.

Yuuri was used to the stares. And sure, he was a bit thicker than a model should have been. He’d put on a little weight after he quit, worked out a little less. But Yuuri had never felt so conspicuous in his own skin.

The email he’d gotten had told him to check in with the receptionist when he got settled in. Instead, when he arrived, a young, blond human was standing by the desk, glowering at Yuuri. The boy looked like he’d fallen into a vat of leopard print, with jeans so tight they must have been painted on. “You're a model?” he spat.

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. Then he smiled. A child, that was what this human was. He stopped beside the teenager to check in when the teenager growled.

“Hey, don’t ignore me. Victor wanted you at his office an hour ago.”

“Yes… I just got in?” Yuuri said.

“That doesn't matter. The schedule changed. He needs you there an hour ago,” the boy said. “And you're not staying here. Victor moved you to the residential complex.”

“What? That's crazy-”

“If you don't like it, you can fly home. There's only room for one Yuri here,” the boy finished in clipped tones. He turned and started to leave. Yuuri almost didn’t believe him.

He blinked and scrambled to follow, tugging his suitcase awkwardly behind him. A car waited outside the doors, and the boy, Yuri, was already climbing inside. He glared expectantly, and Yuuri followed in after him, fumbling with the suitcase.

The ride was blessedly silent, Yuri not inclined to say much more than make a little tch of displeasure every time he looked at Yuuri.

The office building was set inside a gated campus, walled off from the city and dressed in trimmings of what looked like gold, but which Yuuri assumed to be some lesser alloy lookalike. The car drove slowly down the path, past a chaotic mess of fashion decisions that hurt to look at.

Everywhere Yuuri looked, a sea of action surged around them, people rushing from one building to another. It was a city within a city, and every inch of it was dripping with the scent of Victor, even inside the car. Yuuri covered his nose, cringing.

“What's wrong with you?” Yuri narrowed his eyes.

Yuuri coughed. “Nothing.” He tried to take shallow breaths. It would only get worse the closer they got.

Better to acclimate while he could.

The scent of alpha dripped from the golden leaves of the trees fronting the main office. The building was the tallest on the campus, at least a hundred stories easily, with neatly cobbled pathways leading to the doors. They opened with a pneumatic whisper.

The scent poured out, heavy and thick, and Yuuri fell back a step, covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve. _Owned owned owned_ , it screamed, painted thick on every wall and tile. Yuuri felt like an intruder just stepping across the threshold.

He glanced around the room.

Everything was luxury. Nothing but the best along every inch of the lobby. Gleaming marble tiles echoing with the chaotic click of boots and heels. Polished, gold-hued, stainless steel elevator bays. The ceiling was a stunning real-time rendering of the night sky, though it was mid afternoon.

Yuri didn't pause. Yuuri had to force himself inside. He didn't belong here. It wasn't just Victor’s territory. It was too much, and Yuuri knew he had no right to be standing here, invited no less, to be one of Victor’s models. They were all gorgeous, without parallel, but always something surprising and eye-catching, and Yuuri was nothing. He might have been Lapaki, but he was a fuck up.

The took the elevator to floor 136, where it spit them out into a landing that was designed to resemble a palace carved of ice. There was a frenetic energy here, too, as people raced back and forth with pads of papers, armloads of fabrics, and purses piled up to their eyes. “Is this the right place?”

“Yeah, he's been arguing about fabrics all morning, waiting for you to show up. So glad you could _grace us_ with your presence, finally,” Yuri scoffed.

“Yuuri!” a voice called across the room. The scents were so thick Yuuri hadn't even noticed the source of it all until he stepped into the room.

He looked devastatingly beautiful. Mr. Nikiforov had forgone the suit jacket, or perhaps just discarded it, leaving him in pressed slacks, a soft pink dress shirt, and a vest and tie. Yuuri could hear his expensive watch ticking in the lull of conversation as people turned to gape.

Yuuri looked down at his own clothes. _Oh_. He was still in the sweatpants and t-shirt number he'd worn on the ship. Yuuri wanted to fall through the building and die of embarrassment. Victor strode up to him, pleased as could be, hand already up to greet him.

Yuri stared as their foreheads touched. Victor clasped their fingers together, bringing Yuuri’s fingers to his lips. He left a soft kiss on Yuuri’s knuckles, a little smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, before he let Yuuri go.

“I'm glad you're here,” Victor said. “Why don't you come to the back? Yuri, thank you, Yakov needs to see you on 25.”

“I still don’t see why I had to do this. Do I look like an intern?” Yuri bit out. He glared and headed for the elevators, but not without one last jab of his finger at Yuri. “You may think you're ready for this, but you won't last a day here. Give up now.”

Victor smiled. “So competitive, our Yurio.”

“What did you call me?” Yuri hissed. His head whipped between Victor and Yuuri, not sure where to point his fiery glare. He settled on Victor, with an almost animal baring of his teeth.

“Well, I can’t call you both Yuuri, that would be confusing,” Victor said. He turned and immediately began to walk away, beckoning Yuuri to follow. Yuuri stumbled after, more than eager to get this over with.

Up close, Yuuri was overwhelmed by the scent of a virile alpha ready to mate, and his body was responding in kind. He felt a gush of slick. He grimaced. Victor was going to be the death of him.

“It's so good to see you. I'm glad we can pick up where we left off. Ah, here we go.” Victor led him to a private elevator that required a key card to open. It took them near the top of the building, to what looked like a private workshop.

Yuuri's eyes went wide. Bits and pieces and scraps of designs littered the room, strewn across tables and dressing up mannequins. The walls were pinned with thousands of designs, arrayed in rows organized by season and collection. It was all breathtaking.

Victor smiled. “You like it?”

“It's amazing,” Yuuri breathed.

“I have a few ideas I wanted to play with but I wanted to know how far I could take the idea. Is there anything you're uncomfortable with modeling?” Victor asked. He stopped by a table and picked up a book, thumbing through the pages. Yuuri could see more sketches inside, many struck through and slashed out viciously. Victor stopped on a blank page. “The theme for the show is Power, and that has a lot of dynamics.”

Victor didn't need his input. Victor could dress Yuuri in rags and he'd probably wear them on the runway feeling as giddy as a child. But he couldn't very well say that without sounding like an idiot, or worse, a hopeless fanboy. The scent in the air was making it hard for Yuuri to focus.

“You like surprising people,” Yuuri finally settled on. “You're a designer who never does what people expect. At least, never what I expect. Whatever you think would he best, I can try to show off to the best of my abilities.”

Victor pursed his lips. “That's not an answer. Let me show you.” He turned to another sketchbook, this one concealed with his body as he thumbed through it. He turned it around to show the page. It was a sketch of Yuuri, unmistakably so, although looking unnaturally tall and slender in a stylistic sort of way. Hair slicked back, no glasses, long ears tilted back in an almost aroused sort of way, and dressed in...Yuuri bit his lip, eyes going wide.  “It was inspired by bondage and D/s concepts,” Victor said.

“I see,” was all Yuuri could manage.

It was sexy, and there was absolutely no way Yuuri could ever pull off the look the way the sketch of himself did. Black, with silver crystals glimmering along it. Hints of red threaded through. Blocks of mesh and fabric tantalized the eye, drawing attention to the barely-covered pecs, the line of the groin peeking out through the mesh, the crisscrossing straps giving the silhouette the image of being tied up, even while free, of subtle power giving it a dominant air.

“It's beautiful,” Yuuri breathed. His fingertips skimmed the paper. He'd never look as beautiful as this sketch did. There was power in every line of it, something graceful and deadly and sexy.

“Eros,” Victor said. “The centerpiece for the show. And I want you to wear it.”

Yuuri flinched. He couldn't. He'd make a mess. But Yurio’s words rang in his ears. They thought he couldn't do it. If this was a joke, Yuuri would pretend it wasn't. “I can do that,” he said, eyes wide, sounding more sure than he felt. His tail was quivering.

A smile split Victor’s face. “That's good to hear.” He laid the sketchbook down and picked up a length of measuring tape. Victor moved slowly, and his scent deepened in the air. It stirred in Yuuri’s blood. Less aggressive, now. Something else, something Yuuri couldn't pinpoint with any accuracy, too complicated for easy identification. Yuuri’s eyes fluttered closed in spite of himself.

Victor stepped up behind him. Measurements. Yuuri lifted his arms and Victor encircled his chest with the tape, fingers skimming lightly over the shabby shirt. “Would you mind removing your clothing so I can get a better measurement?” he murmured.

His voice sounded huskier than before, and it sent chills down Yuuri’s spine. Yuuri flushed and slowly pulled the shirt over his head. His stomach had a bit of pudge, his body softer than it should have been. He cringed as he stepped out of his pants as well, leaving him in just his black boxer briefs. Nudity was never an issue, but Yuuri still found himself turning his back to Victor, covering his nipples with his hands.

“My my, you are a little piggy aren't you?” Victor said, gently pinching a roll of chub. His cold words and husky tone mixed the messages until Yuuri couldn’t tell what he even meant by it. The scent was making him dizzy. It was hard to think straight with it cloying, floral and crisp, in his head.

“I know, I put on a little weight, but I'll have it all off in a few weeks,” Yuuri said quickly.

“You'd better, there's no room for piggies on the runway,” Victor murmured into his ear.

The tape came up. Victor brushed Yuuri’s hands out of the way so the tape could wrap around his chest. It was cold on his nipples, making them prick into sharp nubs. Victor hummed and the tape slipped down to his waist. Yuuri’s tail was twitching like mad, but Yuuri held his arms out, manipulated into place at Victor’s casual touch.

“What were you back when you worked under Celestino?”

“26 inches,” Yuuri said uneasily.

Victor clicked his tongue, hands sliding down over Yuuri’s skin. Goosebumps pricked in the wake of his touch. “You've got a long way to go then,” he said. Yuuri wheezed. He didn't have to say it like that.

Victor brought the tape down around one of Yuuri’s thighs and made a small sound of surprise. His fingers brushed the skin, a little cold, and Yuuri muffled a gasp. Victor’s scent was thicker now, with him kneeling beside Yuuri’s legs. His breath was hot on Yuuri’s skin.

“I'll work hard,” Yuuri breathed. Something under his skin was crawling, indescribable and hot. Yuuri glanced sideways down, and Victor was looking up at him, lips parted slightly, his eyes so bright and blue, and Yuuri _wanted_ , wanted so badly his knees trembled and his briefs suddenly felt damp.

Yuuri needed to be out of here _now_.

Victor let his hands sit on Yuuri’s hips. Yuuri’s eyes fell closed. It was like a spell over him, the room too hot, the touch so cooling and perfect. He felt exposed, vulnerable, but Victor’s hands on him made his fluttering heart steady.

“Yuuri…” Victor rasped, and his voice was rough, like he needed to clear his throat. “I-”

The door slammed open, and Yuuri flinched out of the touch. Victor blinked, startled, a little confused. Yurio was standing there in the doorway. “There you are. Someone’s demanding he see you.”

Victor cleared his throat. “I thought you weren’t an intern,” he said, narrowing his eyes. He slowly rose to his feet. “Who is it? Tell them I’m busy.”

“Giacometti. Says it’s about the collaboration for the athletic line.”

“Tell him he can call and schedule an appointment like always,” Victor said. “I’m _busy_.”

Yurio eyed Yuuri. “Sure you were. I’m never touching anything in this room ever again. Gross. Bang your models after hours like everyone else in your stupid city. But sure. I’ll tell Giacometti you’re ‘busy’,” Yurio said, throwing up air quotes with his eye roll.

“We weren’t-” Yuuri sputtered. “Mr. Nikiforov wasn’t doing anything, just measuring-”

Yurio was already long gone with an unimpressed ‘hmph’.

Victor looked back at him. His blue eyes sparkled like crystals, his hair a little mussed after he dragged his fingers through it. “How long can you stay? Do you have any other obligations? Other shows?”

“Uhh…” Yuuri blanked. No shows. No one else wanted him after the shitshow affair with Celestino. A few joke offers, but nothing serious. “Not really?”

“Excellent! Please say you’ll stay on Ionope until the show, then? We have extensive facilities on-planet, and Stammi Vicino in particular has everything you could need.”

Yuuri stammered. “I- I don’t know- how long would it be to get things fitted-”

“Well, you could make 12 different trips here for fittings, or stay at least a two months for us to get the piece done.”

“Two months?” Yuuri sputtered.

“And we’ll need to make sure you get back to your old size, of course, I can’t have you modeling for me if you’re so squishy and soft,” Victor added, giving Yuuri’s generous hips a little squeeze. “I’ll base the initial designs for the pieces off your measurements with Celestino. Try to get back to that, alright? Chop chop, little piggy!”

* * *

Four weeks went by faster than Yuuri could have ever believed.

He grinned into the mirror as he wrapped a measuring tape around his waist. Victor’s approved diet was stricter than Celestino’s had been, and Yuuri pushed himself a little harder on his daily runs than normal. But the results were undeniable.

His weight loss thus far was at just the right pace to have him at the right weight about three weeks ahead of the event.

He expected things to be boring around here, at least for him. But Yurio set off Yuuri’s competitive nature, and they ended up spending most of their days perfecting their strut down one of the practice catwalks or running through the city.

Yuuri met Victor’s friends, fellow designers, including Christophe Giacometti, who invited Yuuri to participate in a coldgear spread that Yuuri knew would disguise the last few pounds he needed to work off. Yuuri traveled off-planet for two days, and was surprised when he found himself breathing clean air for the first time in a month.

Victor’s scent left a warm, cozy feeling inside him when he finally returned. It didn’t seem so unwelcome now. Maybe Yuuri had gotten used to it, the way people got used to other smells.

He’d also gotten used to Victor’s behavior. It was strange. Not what Yuuri had expected. Yes, Victor was very serious when at work, almost single-mindedly focused on his job. But the second he smelled Yuuri approach, a smile broke over his face.

Sometimes Victor would stare at his lips for a long time, then blink away. But Yuuri didn’t want to read into that something that wasn’t there. Because Victor was something Yuuri hadn’t expected at all. Blunt, yes, savage at the best of times, but also sweet, and just a little puppy-ish when it was just the two of them.

The time they spent together was something Yuuri was starting to consider precious. And Yuuri didn’t want to ruin it by thinking with his dick.

He struggled to keep himself together over the last month without succumbing to the increasing urge to bang his new boss. Victor just smelled so _available_. And if that didn’t make matters worse, there was the touches.

They were _constant_. Normal enough for Lapaki, maybe, but Yuuri had spent enough time among humans and other races to be thrown off by Victor’s casual flopping down on top of him.

When the stress became too much, when his anxiety flared, Victor would wrap himself around Yuuri, surrounding him in the warm scent, effectively laying down on top of him. That little anxious thing inside him would start to calm, soothed by the instinctual reaction to Victor’s casual dominance.

So when Victor came from meetings looking frazzled, a little lost and unsure, but pretending all was fine, Yuuri found himself returning the favor, pulling Victor into his arms, bearing down around him just enough to feel Victor’s shaking begin to still, to feel the tension in the muscles relax. If he was overstepping, Victor never said, just smiled and closed his eyes, his long white ears tipping down.

Yuri judged them. Vocally.

“It's a Lapaki thing,” Yuuri tried to explain once. “When stressed, sometimes we-”

“I don't want to hear it!” Yuri retorted, storming out. But Victor was a constant temptation and Yuuri couldn’t find it in himself to resist. They weren't dating. They were barely friends. Just two Lapaki getting used to being around each other.

Yuuri felt different today, though. He couldn't really explain it.

It had taken him longer than usual to get motivated to leave the bed, which had been viciously unmade in his sleep until the sheets had tangled around his thighs. Then, when he finally did get up, every limb was a thousand pounds, graceless and weary. He smiled at the mirror, dropping the measuring tape on the dresser, trying to ignore the flush on his cheeks, the chill in his bones.

Just what he needed. A cold. He strapped a mask on his face so he wouldn't spread it and tried to do something about his messy hair, before giving it up as a bad job. There was no photoshoot today, nobody cared. The other models in the city could judge all they liked.

Yuuri’s eyes were brighter than normal, a little glassy. He squinted at the mirror. A bit dilated, too. He’d take some cold medicine and be on his way.

The secretary sent him up to Victor’s office when he arrived at the main building. Victor was typing an email when the elevator doors opened. He looked sharp in a suit, so beautiful it hurt to look. Victor glanced up. He blinked a few times.

“Sorry, I’ll just wait here until you’re finished,” Yuuri said, taking a seat on the nearby couch. He felt dizzy, suddenly, shivering from the draft. He was wearing two sweatshirts and still felt freezing. He wrapped his arms around himself.

“Cold?” Victor asked.

Yuuri shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said. Victor stood. “No no, really, I’m fine-” Victor was already moving for the closet, pulling out a long, tan coat.

“Here, wear this.” He swept it around Yuuri’s shoulders, and Yuuri’s head whirled, everything going hazy and black for a brief second. “Are you sick?”

“I’ll be fine,” Yuuri said. He wasn’t coughing or sneezing. He'd be fine. He straightened the throw pillows and settled between them, shivering harder. He felt safer here. He couldn't explain why.

Yuuri tucked his nose into the coat’s collar. It smelled like Victor. He passed out for a few hours, and woke up to Victor laying on top of him. Yuuri felt calm.

“You're so warm,” Victor murmured. His scent surrounded Yuuri like a blanket.

“Work…” Yuuri muttered. “Isn't there… something we should be doing…?”

“Mmm.. later,” Victor murmured. “You smell… mm... different today.”

“I‘m just sick. You're going to catch it if you don't get off,” Yuuri said. Victor made no move to sit up. Yuuri wasn't sure if he was pleased or pissed. “Victor…”

Victor’s cell phone rang, and Victor grunted irritably, answering it with a swipe of his thumb. “Hello? Yes, no I'm in my office. Ugh. Alright, I'll be down.” He hung up. “Another ‘catastrophe’. Get some sleep, Yuuri. We can do the new measurements tomorrow.”

Yuuri grumbled something incoherent, even to him.

“Go back to your room,” Victor said, smiling, a little amused. His suit was a little wrinkled. Yuuri felt bad. “Take a nap. Text me if you feel better.”

Victor was so nice… Yuuri stumbled to his feet, still wrapped in Victor’s coat. Victor was gone. When had he left? Yuuri blinked. Another five minutes had passed since he'd decided to stand up.

Yuuri started for the elevator.

When he reached his door, he blinked, unable to remember the walk back. He hoped it wasn’t a fever. He scanned his key card and walked inside. He fumbled around for a thermometer but couldn't find one in the apartment.

Fuck it. He needed sleep. He pulled back the hangings on the bed, falling clothes-and-all into the sheets. He yanked the curtains closed again behind him.

The blankets were still unmade, and Yuuri found himself tugging them into a more comfortable orientation. The pillows needed to be moved as well. He weakly shuffled things in the bed, until everything started to twist together, cozy and warm.

His clothes were too constricting, so he stripped. They smelled like Victor, though, so he found himself staring at them, puzzled, until he remembered Victor had been laying on top of him. He tucked the pieces inside as well, along with the designer coat. It smelled the strongest of Victor, and it was a comforting scent.

Did Victor want it back?

Did Yuuri even care? No, probably not. He felt a pulse between his legs, a bit of slick, the hardness of his cock when he buried his nose in the scent.

Victor… he wanted Victor back. Yuuri rolled over, and he let sleep claim him again.

Yuuri woke up hard and aching. His whole body was shivering violently with cold. He rolled and buried his face in the borrowed coat. Victor. _Victor_. Yuuri’s hand was jerking along his cock.

Victor was so pretty. Big blue eyes, the brightest damn smile. He was so nice to Yuuri. Always so nice, never pitying, blunt when Yuuri needed it most, and there to flop on top of Yuuri when his anxiety flared.

Victor… Victor… “Victor…” he moaned. His fingers slid between his legs. His body was leaking slick at a prodigious pace, a little puddle of it slicking down his taint and soaking into the bedsheets.

He pressed a finger inside and whined. It wasn't enough. He wanted more than this. His hand flew out, patting around drunkenly. “Victor…”

He felt his phone under his fingertips and he fumbled it into one hand, barely paying it half a mind. His brain was mush. He needed… he needed…

“Victor...” he said. “Pl-lease- Victor, need-” He pressed another finger inside himself and he gasped, tilting his hips to meet the frantic rocking of his fingers inside himself. He dropped the phone, and he slid a hand up his chest instead. His fingers closed around a nipple, and his head fell back, body jerking like he'd been electrocuted. Every nerve in his body was a live wire.

Time felt hazy. He wanted to come. He wanted to come so badly, but release was inches from reach, so close and yet so far away. He fucked himself frantically with his fingers, shoving more inside. But it wasn't enough.

Yuuri heard a door open. “Yuuri?” A cautious voice called. Yuuri moaned softly. It couldn't be. “Oh. _Oh_.” Victor's voice was soft with shock. The door closed, and Victor’s delicious scent fell down heavily over the room. Lust, it was lust, that was the scent Yuuri couldn't figure out. It was lust and Yuuri needed something inside him right now.

Yuuri was sprawled back in the bed, splaying his legs wider apart. The hangings were pulled back. Victor was in the same suit as before. “Alpha,” Yuuri breathed. He rose to his knees, slick painting his thighs, the coat falling off his shoulders. He held out his arms.

Victor pulled him into an embrace, the suit stiff against Yuuri’s bare skin. “Oh Yuuri,” Victor murmured. “Yuuri, what-?”

“Need you,” Yuuri breathed. His eyes were wide, and he nuzzled into Victor’s neck, pressing kisses to the skin, inhaling the heady aroma of Victor’s scent. Hands slid up his sides, skidding along his skin and settling so heavily on Yuuri’s hips. Victor’s hands were big, the fingers long and delicate and perfectly manicured. They were so warm on Yuuri’s skin, so exquisitely close to what Yuuri needed. “Please, in me, fuck me, Victor, please, want you…” Yuuri whispered between kisses.

He twitched his hips against the suit, his cock leaking and spilling on the black fabric as he rutted.

He could feel the groan reverberate through Victor’s whole body, feel Victor growing hard inside the suit pants. “Yuuri, are you in heat?” Victor asked. His voice was quavering. Yuuri could feel Victor’s control slipping, smell his scent fluctuating between panic and arousal.

Victor was so close. Yuuri didn't know what he wanted but he knew what he needed: he needed Victor’s self control to shatter, he needed Victor fucking him now, he needed to do something before he was left alone.

“Victoooor,” Yuuri moaned. He dragged Victor’s hand down past the twitching tail to cup his ass, and Victor’s breath caught. So did his hand, grabbing one cheek and giving it a long, slow squeeze. Slick spilled. Victor bit his lip, eyes closing. “Alpha, fuck me, please.” Yuuri dragged his fingers through Victor’s hair, stroking the long ears until Victor melted against him.

Victor crushed Yuuri against his body, tipping them both back onto the bed and into a deep, crushing embrace. The kiss was frantic, messy, hands clutching for purchase on each other's bodies, rutting against each other with a feverish desperation.

Victor caged Yuuri with his body and Yuuri had never felt so small until now, braced by Victor’s arms and legs, his heavy weight bearing down so deliciously against Yuuri’s stomach. Victor’s kisses slid down his jaw, sucking a line of kiss marks into his throat. The suit rucked up his back, and Yuuri slid his hands under the shirt, flat against the skin.

Victor’s teeth sank into the skin, and Yuuri rasped out a strangled scream of pleasure, throwing back his head. His nails bit into the skin of Victor’s back.

Victor growled. His hands pushed Yuuri's legs further apart, bending them back so Yuuri’s body was wholly exposed to him, so completely on display. Victor pulled back, bowing over to kiss up Yuuri’s stomach. His hands slowly slid down Yuuri’s thighs, and the warmth bled from his fingers and under the skin.

“Fuck me,” Yuuri begged. “Come on, fuck me, please.”

Victor smiled down, his eyes black with lust. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Victooor,” Yuuri moaned. He dragged his fingers down Victor’s back, past the fluffy white tail, tugging at the back of the slacks. The belt refused to give, and Yuuri circled his hands down along the expensive leather to fumble at the buckle. Victor wasn’t making it easy on him, dragging the tight bulge of his pants across Yuuri’s erection. His kisses feathered up Yuuri’s torso. They followed neatly along the line of Yuuri’s stomach.

He diverged from his path, and Yuuri’s hands dropped in shock as Victor dragged the flat of his tongue along his right nipple. “Aaaaahh,” Yuuri gasped. He clutched at the sheets.

Victor sucked the bud of his nipple between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make Yuuri writhe. Victor brought one hand up to roll the other between his thumb and forefinger.  The feeling was positively electric, sending Yuuri’s hazy, lust-blown mind spiraling. “Fuck, fuck-” Yuuri sputtered.

Victor was merciless. He lavished attention there, right on the pert, pink nipples. “Do you like that?” Victor murmured, looking up at Yuuri with a little grin. Oh, what a tease. His free hand slid down between Yuuri’s legs, bypassing his cock to circle the flat of his fingers around the dripping hole there, teasing, it but not quite pushing inside.

“Come on, Victor- I want your cock, please, fuck me-”

Victor sucked hard, dragging the flat of his tongue roughly against the sensitive flesh at the same time that he gave the other nipple a sharp pinch.

Yuuri’s eyes rolled back as he came hard on Victor’s suit, moaning Victor’s name breathlessly.

Victor didn’t even give him the chance to finish, pushing his middle finger inside and thrusting it deep. Yuuri groaned. He managed to pry the fingers of one hand off the sheets, clutching at Victor instead. His fingers curled into Victor’s hair, weaving into the silky, soft, silver strands, carding through as Victor lapped and sucked. His white ears bobbed in the ear, twitching with satisfaction.

Victor pressed another finger inside, still teasing. “I am fucking you.”

“More,” Yuuri growled, He kicked out, startling Victor enough to flip their positions. They rolled, moving so Yuuri was straddling Victor’s thighs and holding Victor’s hands above his head. Victor’s slacks were tight in the front, tented with his desire.

Yuuri rubbed against it, letting his slick stain the bulge, a whispery little gasp escaping him. He could feel his pulse throbbing between his legs. He jerked his cock a few times with a luxurious moan. He needed Victor inside him now.

Yuuri bowed over him, pressing messy kisses to Victor’s lips and throat, nuzzling into the scent glands just under the collar of his suit. “You look... just divine,” Victor panted, clutching at Yuuri’s waist.

Yuuri purred happily. What a sweet thought, though Yuuri knew the truth. Victor was divinity, the one laid out in Yuuri’s nest, a dream in his rumpled suit, his hair fanning out on the sheets and his long ears laying lax. Yuuri was the one ruined.

Yuuri felt a buzzing against his thigh, heard a ring like a distant echo. Victor’s phone. Victor made to reach for it, but Yuuri pilfered it from his pockets, tossing it aside with a deep kiss. He rolled his hips, grinding down against Victor until his protests fell silent and his fingers clutched at Yuuri’s hips again.

Yuuri hastily pulled open the belt, undoing the slacks. Victor was dressed in a tight pair of black underwear that were easily pulled aside, freeing his prodigious cock. Yuuri gave it a few strokes. It was heavy in his hands, thick and long. He eyed the weight of it in his hands before pressing it against himself.  He dropped down on his knees. The head pushed against the slick heat of his body. He pushed.

Yuuri cried out from bliss and a little pinch of pain, the little flash of realization that Victor was big, not just in the breadth of his shoulders, the long legs that sprawled across Yuuri’s nest, but also in the well-endowed cock driving up inside him, dragging so sweetly along every inch of his body.  

Victor was whispering a mantra of Yuuri’s name, a litany of praises and sweet moans as Yuuri struggled to bottom out. He wondered how deep Victor would go.

So full of cock, Yuuri took long, deep breaths, lavishing in the feeling and in the beautiful sight of Victor in his suit, flushed and panting in Yuuri’s nest. Yuuri pulled up and let his body sink back onto it.

Yuuri rode Victor hard, panting and gasping as it built within him, that desperate need for release. He cupped his pecs, curling his hands around them before siding his thumbs up, rubbing them over his nipples.

He cried out. It was so much, but it was everything Yuuri had dreamed of. He spilled untouched, too overwhelmed from his own teasing touches to his nipples, Victor's thick shaft driving him open, fucking him so deep with every thrust.

“Knot me,” Yuuri begged, riding out his orgasm. “Victor, please, knot me, I need- alpha please need-”

Victor’s eyes darkened, his fingers clutching tighter to Yuuri’s hips, and he lifted. He pulled Yuuri half off his cock, pushing him flat onto his back, driving his cock in even deeper than before with a hungry moan.

“Whatever you want, Yuuri, anything,” Victor panted. His eyes closed and he slammed in deep, leaving Yuuri screaming in pleasure, clawing at the sheets. Victor pulled Yuuri’s thighs up, propping the legs on his shoulders so Yuuri’s hips were tilted up. It offered a better position to grind in deep, the knot starting to catch at Yuuri’s rim, and Yuuri’s fluffy tail twitching in open air.

Victor pushed inside one last time, his breath so hot on Yuuri’s skin, and Yuuri felt it, Victor coming inside him, the knot popping inside and locking them together. “Yesss,” Yuuri moaned. His mind was spiraling with need. “Breed me, alpha.”

Victor hummed, stealing a long kiss from Yuuri as he slowly rolled his hips. The knot pulled at the rim, not quite small enough to slip out, but enough to tease, to fuck Yuuri with little thrusts that dragged Victor’s cock right along all the right places.

“You want me to fill your belly with kits?” Victor purred. He slid his hands over Yuuri’s stomach. “I'll fuck a whole litter into you, Yuuri, would you like that?”

“Please,” Yuuri moaned. His fingers clawed at Victor’s back. “Harder, fuck me harder, alpha!”

Victor obliged, tipping Yuuri’s hips further forward, using his weight to slam his cock as deep as he could, rocking as he came again and again, time fading into a haze of sensation.

There was nothing but Victor’s hands sliding over his skin, circling Yuuri’s waist for leverage to dick him down into the bed, nothing but Victor’s cock driving round after round of come inside him, the knot locking them so perfectly together and holding it all in.

When Victor started to slow, they rolled over once more, and Yuuri bobbed on Victor’s cock, taking it all inside him just like he needed.

It was hours before they finished, sloppy and exhausted on the bed. Yuuri was laying on top of Victor, Victor sleepily combing Yuuri’s hair through his fingers. “So beautiful,” he murmured. “So lovely.”

Yuuri let out a little groan. His muscles were stiff, his body aching and dripping with release.

The scent of a rutting alpha was thick on the air, laying over the nest in clouds. Yuuri knew it should smell unpleasant. The scent was designed to repel, drive away. But to Yuuri it was ambrosia, heaven surrounding him.

His consciousness was slow coming back to him, his heart was racing. Victor’s touch was warm.

“Ooohh,” Yuuri breathed. He blinked the haze away. The gentle petting through his hair shifted up, curling around his long ears and stroking down the length of them. Yuuri tipped his head into the touch. His eyes fell closed. Warmth brushed his neck, his collarbones, again and again, the touches featherlight. Kisses.

The temperature in his body was evening out, the chill and the feverish heat settling into something more normal. Soreness clung to his muscles and bones. Yuuri blinked his eyes open. “Fuck. Fuck fuck.” He scrambled backwards, clutching his chest.

Victor blinked his own haze away, the rut smell fading slightly from the air. “Yuuri?” he rasped. His voice was soft. Warm as the heat that had boiled in Yuuri’s veins.

“I’m sorry, this was my fault,” Yuuri breathed, eyes wide with panic. “I don’t even know what caused this. I don’t know how I went into heat, this doesn’t make any sense. I haven’t had a heat since middle school.” He was sputtering now, clutching at his head.

Victor sat up with a stiff groan. “It does take two to tango, so to speak. What do you think-”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri said, shaking. “I should have only gone into heat again after I bonded with my mate-” Yuuri broke off, eyes going wide.

Victor went still. “Oh,” he whispered.

“Oh fuck,” Yuuri agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY THIS IS SIX MONTHS LATE. HAPPY HALF BIRTHDAY NYE ILU
> 
> THANKS SO MUCH TO REN FOR BETA-ING AND HELPING WITH THE ENDING AND MAKING IT PERFECT FOR NYEEEEE <3

Most bonds took a year to even start to form. Victor and Yuuri had known each other for four months.

“This isn't possible,” Yuuri said, dragging an anxious hand through his hair and babbling. “I don't understand. How could we, I don't get it-”

Meanwhile Victor was sitting up, horror on his face. “Oh no, Yuuri, you're not- I didn't-” He looked at Yuuri in wide-eyed terror, and Yuuri fell silent. “We didn't use protection.” Victor was on his feet, already pulling on a pair of pants and neatly toppling over himself. “Fuck, fuck,” he breathed. “I'm so sorry, I can get something to-”

Yuuri waved him off. Plan B was the least of his concerns right now. “Victor. First heat. I'm not fertile until my second at least. I'm okay for now, but…” He touched his stomach and let out a shuddering breath. “You're right, we should be careful.”

If Victor had somehow knocked Yuuri up before the show, Yuuri’s career would end faster than it had started. That was the last thing Yuuri wanted. If he was ending his career, he was doing it on his terms and no one else's.

Victor crumpled onto the bed, breathing apologies. “I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me. I heard you on the phone, and all you did was breathe and say my name, and I got… I was just worried. I don't know what I was thinking. I should have known. I should have. And then I came to check on you, and all I could smell was… was the smell of your heat, and…”

“It's not your fault,” Yuuri said.

“I lost control. It is my fault,” Victor said. His voice cracked. His head dropped into his hands. “I can't believe what I did. If I somehow got you pregnant...”

Victor’s career would be a lot harder then, if word got out that he knocked up a model of his. Meanwhile Yuuri would be able to do the show, but he'd be done for afterward.

Yuuri took a deep breath. “It's okay. We can fix this. It isn't too late. We don't have to be bonded, I’m sure there has to be something we can do.”

Victor peeked up. “You… don't want to?”

“You do?” Yuuri sputtered.

Victor looked away. His fingers curled into loose fists on the sheets beside him. The words were slow to come, like an admittance of guilt. “Would it really be so bad, being bonded to me?” he murmured.

“What? I- well-” Yuuri’s mind had deserted him.

“Come on, I'm not stupid, I see the way you look at me. You must feel something, or we wouldn't be here. I… well, do you really not want to?”

“It's not that I don't,” Yuuri said, “but, well, you're you. Why would you want me?”

“Why would I-” Victor broke off.

“Victor, you could have anyone in the world,” Yuuri said. “You don't have to bond with me out of duty or-”

Something in Victor’s expression turned hard, and Yuuri trailed off. “Okay, get dressed, come on.” He quickly started pulling his wrinkled suit over the mess on his body. He tossed a discarded jacket and sweats at Yuuri.

“What? Where are we going?” Yuuri asked. He yanked them over the tacky come drying on his stomach. “We’re filthy, we should shower before the next wave-”

“I don't have time to play these games. Not anymore. I need to show you something. We’ll be right back, I promise you,” Victor said. “Duty…” He said it like it was repulsive on his tongue. Yuuri hesitated, but something in Victor’s voice was too genuine to give Yuuri a trace of doubt. With some reluctance, Yuuri pulled himself from his nest.

Victor led Yuuri out to the hallway of the resident building and to the elevator. Victor swiped a keycard into a panel beside the floor buttons. The penthouse button lit up, and Victor pressed it.

Up they went, to the very top. They were met by another heavy door, which Victor unlocked with his keycard, and they went inside. Yuuri let out a breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Like Victor’s office, the walls were blanketed in designs stuck to every available surface. Some were crude sketches left in graphite and ink, like a fever dream thrown onto paper before it could be forgotten. Others were detailed renderings of color and design, shapes and forms and patterns like Yuuri had never dreamed of. Furniture was buried under them, countertops covered in the kitchen just visible from the door.  

“A year ago, these walls were empty,” Victor said. “I burned every sketch. I was ready to retire. I was going to. I only went to that show as a favor to Celestino, because he was an old friend, and he and Yakov gave me my start.”

“You saw me fall,” Yuuri said with a trace of horror.

“I did. But then I saw you after, and I… Yuuri, you enchanted me. When you asked if you could be my model, I… I could see it. Everything I had lost. The inspiration, the drive. I lost my love for fashion, and you gave it back to me. You were drunk, disheveled, your suit a mess and your tie just _awful_. But you… you took my by the hand, and we danced, and I felt something I haven't felt in a long time.”

Yuuri was speechless, his jaw hanging lax and open, because none of these words made any sense.  “When did this…? I don't remember this. Any of it. I had some champagne that night, I guess, but I don't remember anything.”

“I started to wonder if you did,” Victor admitted. “You had quite a bit to drink, and you never… never really wanted to talk about the best night of my life.”

He held out his phone. It was open to a photo of them, Yuuri dipping Victor, broad grins painted over their faces. Yuuri looked up, eyes wide, but Victor was watching Yuuri like he'd hung the stars, like he had the power to lift Victor up or tear him to pieces at a single word.

Yuuri swiped, and there were more. He scrolled in stunned silence.

“Before I met you, I had lost everything. I lost my inspiration, my dreams. I lost track of who I was, what I wanted from this business, and why I ever started in the first place. And you brought it back. You gave me everything I could imagine and more. I'm old, Yuuri. I don't want to play games.”

“You're not old-” Yuuri started to say.

“I'm 28,” Victor said. “Ancient for a runway. Is it so strange that I might want to try and do this? Make this work?”

Yuuri looked up at the room before him, words caught in his throat. A thousand sketches covered the walls. The ones with any details on the models featured a curve of a long, black ear that lightened at the tip. The rear views starred exposed backs and tufted tails.

These were clothes for Yuuri. Maybe not all of them, maybe they were commercial, but there was an underlying element in all of them, something Yuuri could see on closer inspection.

There was a passion in them. There was fire and love, the strokes and sketches near frenzy. The splashes of color were life thrown on a page. Yuuri touched his lips, breathless.

“But I- I'm nothing special-”

“Yes you are. Never doubt that,” Victor said, folding Yuuri into his arms. Yuuri’s legs shuddered and gave out, and he slouched against Victor. His body trembled. Victor was shaking, too. “Even if you don't believe it yourself, trust that I will never stop thinking you're the most magnificent thing I've ever seen.”

The warmth surrounded him, overwhelming, dizzying, the physical contact so much and yet not nearly enough. Heat was still burning under his skin, a frenzy that had simmered low and was burning up again.

He buried his nose into Victor’s shoulder, breathing deeply. “Nest,” he murmured. His skin crawled. “Talk later, please, Victor- I need back in my nest.”

Victor was sweating. “Right, right,” he said quickly. They scrambled down the elevator to Yuuri’s room. Halfway there, Victor wavered, and Yuuri caught him, bracing him against the wall. Victor looked dizzy. He was breathing heavily through his mouth.

Yuuri fumbled the door open and kicked it closed behind them. They fell back into the nest fully clothed, kissing with a messy, painful clatter of teeth. Yuuri pushed Victor down and straddled him. The hunger was back.

Victor groaned beneath him. His hands slid, worshipful, over Yuuri’s body, up his shoulders and curling around Yuuri’s long ears. The fingers dug pleasurably into the juncture of ear and head, and Yuuri moaned. He pulled at Victor’s wrinkled shirt and trousers.

Victor froze beneath him.

“Victooorr,” Yuuri breathed, grinding down against the aching erection beneath him.

“Protection,” Victor said. He was breathless, trying to keep from breathing in the scent of their arousal. Yuuri was breathing it in deeply. The mingling of Victor’s rut, Yuuri’s heat, swirled deliciously in the air and Yuuri wanted more. “Yuuri, do you have any-”

“First heat,” Yuuri reminded him. He wrestled Victor’s pants open, pulling Victor’s cock out with a few strokes of his hand. Victor couldn’t knock him up if he tried. Yuuri wanted him to try. “Do it, Victor, put them in me.”

Victor groaned, sucking down a lungful of the thick scent. Yuuri could see his head spin. The rut deepened.

“Can you do it, Victor?” Yuuri said.

He threw his shirt behind him. His hands slid up the planes of Victor’s stomach, dragging Victor’s shirt along with it. It caught on Victor’s arms, his head popping out the neck. Yuuri left it there, pinning Victor’s arms together above his head, and he started kissing down the length of Victor’s torso. Victor squirmed under him.

“Can you fuck your babies into me?” Yuuri purred. Victor whined, his ears laying back against his skull. “Can you fill me up? I want them, Victor, fuck me so full of your kits. Please, please.” His voice was whisper soft and hungry, and he could see how much it affected Victor.

Victor wrestled with the shirt as the rut settled over him, trying to work himself free of his bindings with a frantic energy. “Yuuri,” he panted. His ears were laid back and trembling, his eyes dark with lust.

Yuuri kissed and nibbled the line of Victor’s collarbone. There was a small, slightly raised bump at the base of his neck, a shade darker than the rest of Victor’s skin, almost like the shadow of a bruise. Yuuri pressed his lips against it. Victor jerked as Yuuri brushed his teeth over the top of the scent gland, the thick scent of rut in the air growing even heavier. The soft fabric of the shirt gave, the buttons popping free.

Immediately, Victor’s hands came down and around, clutching painfully tight at Yuuri’s hips and dragging upwards. The bruising grip settled on his ribs and pushed, tipping Yuuri onto his back in the nest. Yuuri let out a startled gasp.

Victor loomed over him, licking his lips. “I’ll do better than that,” he breathed, his touch like fire. He dragged the flat of his tongue up Yuuri’s chest, then turned his focus to a perky pink nipple, sucking and lapping his tongue against the nub of it.

His hands had a proprietary grip around Yuuri’s waist, the tips of his fingers nearly touching, nearly entirely encircling.

Yuuri’s mind went wild with fantasies of the marks showing, of people seeing them and knowing that he was Victor’s, that Victor was his. Yuuri groaned, tail twitching wildly under his body, his cock stirring in the roomy sweatpants.

Victor’s hands clutched at the fabric and _yanked_ , pulling them down to Yuuri’s calves in one swift pull. Yuuri laid back in the nest, curling his spine against a low, cushioned wall made of blankets and pillows and a shirt bathed in Victor’s scent. The pants were pulled off the rest of the way and discarded.

Victor was back on him again, kissing, licking, sucking at every inch of skin he could reach. Yuuri’s wandering hands only encouraged him, clutching at Victor’s back and rocking his hips up for a taste of sweet friction until the haze was almost overwhelming.

“Your nest is so nice, _zaichik_ ,” Victor breathed. He nuzzled into Yuuri’s throat, sucking bruises with each kiss that would stain Yuuri’s skin for days. Pride reared its head, and Yuuri purred his satisfaction. His legs coiled around Victor’s waist.

“Put your babies in me,” he said, his mind slipping back into the haze of heat. His hands settled on the button of Victor’s trousers, working the cock free. “Do it, Victor, please, hurry.” He was breathless as Victor worked his pants to his knees. He clutched at Victor’s neck with one hand, bringing the other between his legs to stroke his cock.

Thick drops of slick rolled down the line between his cheeks. His body was twitching with the need of it, his tail wiggling eagerly and his cock bobbing between his thighs. Victor’s fingers slipped inside him. Yuuri writhed on them. His head fell back as Victor rolled his finger through the mess between his thighs and pushed back in, slipping out and back in with another to add to the stretch.

“So messy down here already,” Victor purred. “Wet and ready for me.”

Yuuri gasped as Victor pulled his fingers out and lined up, pushing his cock inside. Yuuri opened so easily underneath him, his body so well fucked from earlier that Victor’s cock settled inside like it was coming home. Victor rocked against him, fucking up into his body with a low grunt.

Yuuri could feel every inch of it filling his body, achingly thick and sliding perfectly in and out of him. “Good?” Victor breathed.

“Harder,” Yuuri ordered. He threw his head back and cried out when Victor shifted to accommodate his order. The change in angle let him reach deeper, fuck harder into Yuuri’s body. Victor dug his heels into the sheets and set off on an urgent pace, their kiss frantic, their bodies writhing in the sheets.

The grip on Yuuri’s hips was bruising, like Victor couldn’t let him go, like every drawing out of his hips was an excruciating separation Victor couldn’t bear for long. He pushed back in with the blunt force of raw hunger, the lust in his eyes boiling hot and thick. He fucked like an animal, and Yuuri couldn’t get enough of it.

“Victor!” he cried. Above him, Victor’s expression was rapturous. The silver of his hair was plastered to his skin, his long ears bobbing above his head.

Victor’s head bowed. He wrenched Yuuri’s ankles back, folding Yuuri double and dragging his tongue along Yuuri’s nipple.

It was a shock to Yuuri’s system, a starburst of pleasure that left him crying out and clutching the sheets. He felt something damp dribble across his chest. His chest was leaking.

Victor let out a weak groan and lapped it up. His teeth skimmed Yuuri’s skin. He licked his way across Yuuri’s chest and latched his lips around Yuuri’s pert, pink nipple, sucking so hard Yuuri saw stars.

Heat milk. If there was any doubt left in Yuuri’s mind, it was gone now. His body had fully embraced the throes of his heat, and was dribbling a substance as sweet as omega slick to ready his body for future heats.

A streak of pride ripped through him. Victor’s fingers were clutching hard at Yuuri’s thighs, pushing Yuuri’s knees back into the bed and slamming his cock so deep it seemed to hit his throat. At the same time Victor’s tongue swirled, pulling at the sticky sweet milk of Yuuri’s first heat.

Victor repeated Yuuri’s name like a mantra on his lips, breeding him hard and deep and Yuuri was losing himself under the pleasure of it.  He could feel it pulsing inside him, Victor’s cock twitching and growing as the knot caught at his rim.

Victor pulled off the first nipple just as it began to ache from oversensitivity and suckled at the other. His hips ground the knot deeper.

Yuuri’s body greedily clutched at it.

Victor let out a low groan and stilled as they were finally locked together, Victor’s release deep inside Yuuri’s body and still spilling, still flooding into Yuuri.

Yuuri tugged, and Victor collapsed heavily on top of him. The last bit of tension unwound from Yuuri’s shoulders, and he felt himself go completely boneless on the sheets.

The heavy, full feeling was bliss. Yuuri clenched on the thick cock inside him. His fingers slid down, feeling the tight connection of the knot trapping them in their embrace. Yuuri could feel Victor’s cock twitching and pulsing inside him, spilling more of his seed deep into Yuuri’s body.

All the while, Victor whispered nonsense under his breath, breathless praise that mixed and mingled with soft moans and theories of how pretty Yuuri would look, heavy with Victor’s get, stomach swollen and round and full of kits.

Yuuri whispered praise back, and he combed his fingers through Victor’s hair, setting the messy sex hair back to rights. It was sweaty, sticking to his forehead in tendrils, and nothing had ever looked so beautiful bowing down over him, pressing sweet kisses to Yuuri’s lips.

“Stay with me,” Yuuri whispered. His fingers curled into Victor’s scalp, dragging up his nape and along his ears with sensual strokes of his nails along the skin. “I want to try. If you do, I want it too.”

Victor let out a deep breath. He met Yuuri’s gaze and smiled. Everything about it was different from every other smile Yuuri had seen from him, something bright and genuine. It painted his face in shades of light, something so beautiful it wormed into Yuuri’s heart curled itself there.  

“I would love that,” Victor said. His hand found Yuuri’s, and their fingers laced together. He pressed a soft kiss to Yuuri’s knuckles. “Be my mate?” he asked.

“Yes,” Yuuri replied. He sucked in a sharp breath when Victor rocked inside of him, a strangled moan as he felt Victor’s thick knot tug at his entrance. It ached, painful and tight, and there was nothing that felt better in Yuuri’s life than this feeling right now.

They kissed, and fell into the lazy feeling of twining together in the cozy nest, the air thick with their mingling scents, and their skin bathed in one another’s release.

* * *

Things were different the following morning.

It didn’t feel different, when the last of the heat had burned off of Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri had shyly slipped into the shower, but Victor wandered right into the streaming water behind him with an offer to wash his hair and ears, and Yuuri couldn’t find it in him to resist.

Yuuri returned the favor with a shiver down his spine. Silky, silver strands tangled through his fingers, carefully washing Victor’s scalp. His eyes trailed down the fresh scratches down Victor’s back. They were angry and red, furious raking slashes in groups of four across the span of his shoulder blades and spine.

He touched one with the light trailing of his fingers. “Did I…?”

Victor shivered. “Nothing I didn’t like,” he promised.

“Oh,” Yuuri said. A vague sense of wonder crept inside him.

Yuuri changed into athletic clothes, already dreading how Yurio would act when Yuuri showed up for his jog limping. Victor retreated to his penthouse to put on a fresh suit for the work day, leaving Yuuri with one last, lingering kiss.

Both were aching and sore, exhausted but pleased. With a few painkillers and a glass of water downed, Yuuri was already doubting his ability to make it through the day. At least people would just assume he was sick.

Even Phichit didn't know Lapaki had heats, and he'd likely freak out if he found out. Yuuri was already running through the list in his head and feeling a little nauseous himself.

He'd need birth control at the very least. Suppressants were expensive and hard to obtain in the right dosages, but it would help keep Yuuri from having heats, and heats were the biggest risk for pregnancy. He'd look into both at the first opportunity.

There were a few doctors that specialized in Lapaki, though they were all off-planet in another system. Yuuri would have to take a week and visit.

“What the actual fuck happened to you?” Yurio scoffed when he finally saw Yuuri a short time later. Yurio was dressed in athletic clothes himself, and was bouncing impatiently on his heels. He stopped when Yuuri came up to him.

“I was sick,” Yuuri said easily.

“Sick,” Yurio echoed. He narrowed his eyes. “And I bet Victor was sick too? Definitely explains those.” He gestured to Yuuri’s neck.

“Explains what?” Yuuri asked.

Yurio made a disgusted noise. “Just keep up,” he said.

It felt good to run, though Yuuri got more than a few funny looks as he went. There wasn't much time before the main event, and the fitting was drawing close as well.

Yuuri came to a sudden stop.

He and Victor being mates meant a spotlight on Yuuri. Everyone judging, growing critical of Victor’s choices. Any Lapaki in the galaxy could have been chosen to be Victor’s mate. Maybe Victor would have picked someone of another species. The world would start to speculate the second it got out and they'd find Yuuri unworthy.

“I'm not waiting, loser!” Yurio yelled. Yuuri stumbled back into a run.

They would, wouldn't they? Unless Yuuri showed them all how wrong they really were. His lips pulled back into a grin. The laugh was helpless and irresistible. They would hate Yuuri. They would hate a washed-up model starring on stage on the biggest runway in the galaxy, at one of the most anticipated shows in history, and they would hate the man who stole Victor from the universe.

And Yuuri was going to make sure that if they hated him, they hated him because he earned it.

He pushed himself harder, feeling the stretch and burn of aching muscles. The cool air was nice on his warm muscles, and he let himself slip into the right headspace to pour on the speed and run until his lungs ached.

“What’s gotten into you?” Yuri asked, narrowing his eyes when Yuuri had caught up.

Yuuri smiled at him. “I realized… I’m really looking forward to this,” he said.

* * *

 

They couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Yuuri tried to be professional. But there was only so much he could take, when Victor’s post-rut scent was intoxicating and laying heavily over the entirety of the work campus. It painted Yuuri’s body, wrapping around him like a second skin.

Yuuri’s scent was just as thick, and it made a part of Yuuri preen with how eager Victor was to let Yuuri cover him in it, until their scents mixed and mingled into a deliriously perfect balance of _them_.

Victor measured him again with the tape. When he saw Yuuri was back to his proper size at last, Victor’s hands slid over Yuuri’s skin and he began to pepper the nape of Yuuri’s neck with kisses.

“You did it, I knew you could,” he murmured.

A shiver climbed up Yuuri’s neck. He laced his arms back so they looped around Victor’s neck, a gentle embrace that pulled Victor closer, Victor’s front flush against his back.

Every inch of him wanted to be pressed against Victor. It crawled under his skin, a desperate yearning he couldn’t explain or define. His body knew his new mate. His instincts could tell Victor was freshly bonded to him. Proximity over the next few days would cement it.

Victor was his, and they both would feel it as acutely as another limb in their body.

It was all Yuuri could do to breathe in deeply the smell of alpha, of his alpha, before he was tugging, pulling Victor by the wrists into the quiet of Victor’s private office. Yuuri’s back hit the chaise, Victor crushing him under the delicious weight of his body, and Yuuri was surrounded. His ears went flat against his head.

As a child, Yuuri had seen his mother and father together. He had seen the way the bond expressed itself in the way they looked at one another, they way they circled around each other like two celestial bodies in orbit.

If this was even a fraction of the overwhelming, all-consuming desire to touch that they felt, Yuuri could see why his father had looked at his mother like she’d hung the stars in the sky.

They made love on the chaise. Nothing had ever been so perfect.

“Something is different about you,” Phichit said during their next video call.

Yuuri scoffed. He could see the busy photoshoot behind Phichit, though his friend had assured him that they were on break and he had, quote, “plenty of time, Yuuri, the photographer’s breaks are ridiculous. This man doesn’t know the meaning of ‘quick lunch’.”

“Nothing is different,” Yuuri assured him. “Anyway, we were talking about you.”

Phichit looked unconvinced. “And you’re deflecting. Also, your ears are doing that twitchy thing they do when you lie.”

Yuuri clamped his hands over his long ears. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Hmmmm.” Phichit tapped his chin. “Then why is there more white in your ears than usual? Trying out a new style?”

Yuuri scoffed. His image in the corner of the screen looked doubtfully back at him. The pale beige tips of his ears had crept down the length of them a bit, so that instead of just pale tips, the light color was now halfway down the length of his ears. Yuuri pinched one between his thumb and forefinger. “That’s… odd.”

“Stress making you go gray?” Phichit asked.

Yuuri made a small sound of wonder as he studied it. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen this before.”

Phichit was quiet for a moment, evaluating. “Lapaki are weird.”

“I’m gonna hang up,” Yuuri complained.

“Okay, okay, fine, not talking about that then. Let’s talk about this new gig I think I found for us…”

* * *

 

Three days later, Yuuri was on a ship to the Vorion Galaxy.

The nearest specialist in Lapaki biology was not a Lapaki, but rather a human who had done extensive research into various species before settling on her specialization. Yuuri had visited her a time or two before over the years, mostly for routine check ups. She welcomed him with a shake of the hand.

“Good to see you, Mr. Katsuki,” she said.

“Good to see you, too,” he replied with a smile. They exchanged a few niceties and settled into business while Yuuri plucked up his nerve to ask what was bothering him. “I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, go right ahead,” she said.

Yuuri took a settling breath. “So, I… recently became bonded,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was hoping I’d be able to get some kind of suppressant or contraceptive. What would you recommend?”

“Depends on what you’re looking for. If you’ve recently had your first heat in the last few weeks, it’ll be hard to say how regular they’ll be. Most omegas tend have them around the same time yearly, though it’ll last longer than your first. Suppressants could put that off, but we don’t advise it for more than a few months.”

“So I would just want a contraceptive, then?” Yuuri asked.

She nodded, and explained that she’d be able to write him a prescription for one, and that he could get it filled downstairs before he headed back to his planet. Relieved, Yuuri felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders now that he had the slip of paper in hand.

“One last thing,” Yuuri said before leaving at the end. “I had a question. The person I bonded to… well… bonds usually take twelve to eighteen months to form, right?”

"Yes,” she replied. “Why?”

“Is there any instances of shorter times?” Yuuri pressed. “Has a bond ever been made in a shorter time period, like, three or four months?”

She shook her head. “The development of a bond is a painstaking and slow process, and it is often difficult to trigger in the first place. It couldn’t occur in that short of a time, particularly not a full bond and heat.”

She tapped her chin as she considered it.

“The only instances of shorter times are when soulmates meet, spend time away, and reunite. Most bonds weaken with time; however, soulmates do not.”

Yuuri stared. “Soulmates?”

“It’s not common, I know, but not completely unheard of. With Lapaki spread so far out, they don’t often find one another. But it does happen. Did you and your mate meet at a previous time? That could have been the triggering event, and the bond continued to strengthen in your time away without you even realizing it.”

The banquet Yuuri couldn’t remember.

He clutched the note tighter, trying to process the word in his mind. Soulmates. “That’s impossible. He and I aren’t- I mean, we wouldn’t be- We couldn’t be-” Yuuri held his head, feeling like the world was spinning out beneath him. “What does it mean, to be soulmates?” he asked in a small voice.

She took the prescription away from him with a tug and a little smile. “Well then. It means I need to up your dosage, first off. Soulmates have a higher chance for conception inside and outside of heats. Your bond will be a bit stronger, but so will the effects Make sure to warn your mate as well, as the emotions you both feel will be magnified. Your heats and ruts will typically be more intense, and last longer. Otherwise, the difference between soulmates and normal mates is usually minimal.

“It’s an intense biological compatibility, though it often has subtle emotional and psychological effects as well. However, it’s definitely amazing,” she said with a smile.

“Right,” Yuuri choked, nodding slightly. He took the new prescription with a shaking hand. “Thank you. Well. I think that’s everything I needed, so thank you. Uh. Thanks.”

He shuffled hastily back to the taxi shuttle, mulling it all over in his head. The word was echoing around in his head. A newly-filled prescription bottle rattled in his fingers as the shuttle hit the atmosphere of the planet.

It was a three day flight back. Yuuri spent it considering the new information.

Lapaki rarely took other mates, but breaking bonds wasn’t unheard of in most A/O pairings. Lapaki preferred mating for life, but each new generation took that less seriously than the last, and Yuuri had heard stories of others of his kind who changed lovers the way humans did.

Soulmates breaking bonds was almost unheard of.

But instead of that idea bringing him to a panic, Yuuri found it surprisingly calming. He had a reason to hold onto Victor for as long as he could. Their time together so far was short, but there was a spark to Victor, a vitality that Yuuri had never known existed beforehand.

Something, somewhere, be it a deity or biology, wanted Yuuri to be with Victor, and Yuuri was going to selfishly hold onto it for as long as he could. This animal desire wasn’t some flaw,; it was in his very nature to desire, selfishly and all-consuming.

* * *

 

Victor greeted Yuuri at the landing bay, sprinting through the facilities to hold Yuuri in his arms even a moment sooner. Yuuri ran to him as well, and they met with a long, lingering embrace, their scents swirling around each other to make up for lost time.

Soulmates.

Yuuri should say something. But it would change things. Victor said this wasn’t duty, and maybe it wasn’t for now. But there would come a day when Yuuri would need to give Victor away, and Yuuri didn’t want someone as good as Victor to sacrifice themselves staying with someone so far beneath them.

Victor deserved the world, and Yuuri would let him have it.

The days counted down to the show.

A constant stream of big names flowed in and out of the planet, each person consulting with Victor before finishing their journey to the fashion mecca on Linerus. Many of them stopped to speak with Yuuri as well, intrigued by his association with Victor. But they hadn’t seen anything yet.

Making these connections now was one thing, but they’d pay off tenfold when Yuuri showed off Victor’s stunning designs on the catwalk. This was his last chance. Yuuri loved modelling, he did, well and truly more than anything else in the world.

This was something he’d forgotten. Listening to Victor discuss lighting arrays and orders for costumes gave Yuuri a feeling of nostalgia for when it was him beneath the weight of flashbulbs.

He realized how much he wanted this since he’d stopped.

And then the day arrived. Yuuri showered after his run as he always did, changing into a pair of fitted black slacks and a collared shirt with a cardigan, along with a tie Victor had pressed into his hand when he’d begged Yuuri to burn his old one.

Yuuri conceded for one reason and one reason only: this tie smelled of Victor’s cologne, and wearing it was guaranteed to make Yuuri’s blood boil all day.

They were both dressed nicely. The moment had a certain ceremony to it, and it felt right to dress appropriately. Victor’s suit drew Yuuri’s eye in a way that had to be illegal. Victor’s model-perfect lines were accentuated by the bespoke cut.

The piece was brought out in a garment bag. Yuuri shed the cardigan first and loosened the tie. Victor held both in gloved hands. Casual strokes of his wrists over the fabric meant he was scenting the clothes, maybe something he did thoughtlessly, but it would be something Yuuri would appreciate later all the same.

The bag was hanging on a display rack, waiting. He tugged the zipper down, putting Victor’s genius on full display. Yuuri couldn’t stifle the breathless gasp.

“What do you think, _zaichik_?” Victor asked.

There was something eager in Victor’s voice, but something fragile, too, and Yuuri was painfully reminded of the doctor’s words: that every emotion would feel amplified, not just the good feelings, but the fear, the worry of not being enough.

This was Victor’s crowning centerpiece. If  it wasn’t the greatest piece of his life, if Yuuri didn’t show it off to full effect, if it didn’t measure up, the whole show would fall flat.

It was sensual, a dark blue crusted with gems. Panels of silk and mesh formed a complex pattern that looked at once fascinating and impossible to put on alone.

Yuuri ran his fingers over the soft fabric. It even felt beautiful. He couldn’t breathe as he looked at it.

“It’s amazing,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor let out a breath, and a smile slowly crossed his face. “I’m so glad you like it. Would you try it on for me?”

Yuuri nodded. He let the button-up fall down his shoulders with each button he undid, until his chest was exposed. Victor was staring at a spot on Yuuri’s collarbone. Yuuri brushed his fingers over it, and Victor flushed and looked away quickly.

A dark, bruise-like mark. It was the only mark of their bond that non-Lapaki would ever see, without the ability to see the electricity between them, smell the mingling of pheromones. Victor had a matching one hidden beneath the collar of his suit.

Yuuri dressed slowly. The prototype design fit him like a second skin. Victor’s eyes dragged appreciatively over Yuuri’s thighs, his stomach, pleased by the fit. His hands touched Yuuri’s skin lightly. The soft leather of his gloves was delicious on Yuuri’s skin.

“I need to take the waist in a bit,” Victor murmured, mostly to himself. “Let out the leg… Mmm…”

Victor’s gaze was no longer dark with lust. Work had taken him over, his touch perfunctory and professional. The gloves skimmed over Yuuri’s hips and thighs, turning him this way and that as he tested the fit, pinning and taking notes.

Yuuri squirmed.

Victor always looked handsome. He could wear a gunny sack and still look fit to walk the runway. But the suit did something dangerous to Victor’s aura. The way he stood and the way he spoke and the almost possessive way he ran his hands down Yuuri’s skin, it was all enough to drive Yuuri absolutely mad.

It was nothing sexual as Victor worked, and yet Yuuri was getting more and more turned on as Victor tested the give and the gathering of the straps and mesh.

“Are the gloves necessary?” Yuuri huffed.

Victor paused. Something playful pulled at the corners of his lips. “Do they bother you, _zaichik_? I can take them off.”

That would be worse. Victor’s hands on Yuuri’s bare skin while he stood before him dressed in lingerie Victor had designed with him in mind? The silence in the room was already painfully intimate.

Victor let his hands linger on Yuuri’s hips. His lips found the nape of Yuuri’s neck, and he pressed whispersoft kisses into the skin. He breathed in deeply. His scent deepened. His hand slid down. The soft, leather encased fingers toyed with the base of Yuuri’s tail.

Victor’s voice was husky and low when he spoke again. “Can I tighten the hole for your tail? Or will it be uncomfortable?”

Yuuri let out a breath. “That would be… fine…” he breathed. His chest felt tight.

His eyes trailed over to the body length mirror across from them. Victor was too close, and yet he wasn’t close enough at all, dangerous and beautiful at once in his suit and gloves. In contrast, Yuuri was in just the lingerie prototype and feeling sorely underdressed.

It was beautiful, Victor’s finest work Yuuri had ever seen. Yuuri’s hair was slicked back, and his glasses were low on his nose. But Yuuri didn’t see himself doing it the justice it deserved. Time was running out to make sure he was ready.

He closed his eyes as Victor skimmed his hands up and down the exposed skin. The kisses grew more heated, sucking harder at Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri barely muffled the groan.

“You’re so beautiful, so beautiful,” Victor murmured. He was tugging at the zipper at the nape of Yuuri’s neck. The outfit slid down, chased by Victor’s lips down his spine. He was stripped and Victor pushed Yuuri onto the chaise, making love under the walls of Victor’s brilliant designs.

Victor barely bothered to unzip his own clothes, pulling his cock out of his trousers and slotting right in, fucking Yuuri hard and fast and leaving Yuuri screaming with pleasure.

Yuuri curled up in the suit jacket and sleepily watched as Victor finished the last few notes on the costume and put it away in its garment bag once more.

* * *

Linerus was a gorgeous planet. Even before landing, Yuuri could see it. The air seemed to vibrate with bright, brilliant music, and the trees were full with red and gold leaves. The streets were thick with hovering cars and light bikes trailing a fluorescent white glow behind them.

The alternative power sources powering them were especially popular on the planet, leaving the air beautifully light and fresh smelling, sweet with something like vanilla and pumpkin spice. There was at least one Lapaki that lived here, but it was not a heavy, territorial scent. It was welcoming, delightfully layered and complex.

The balcony area was opened up for visitors once they’d entered the planet’s atmosphere, and the filmy biobarrier around it was permeable enough to allow the sweet scents to enter.

“An old friend and her wife,” Victor said, by way of explanation. “Come on, let’s start heading towards the departure bay. We don’t want to be late.”

“For what?” Yuuri asked. They hadn’t even landed, but Victor was already walking to where the bay doors would slide open after touchdown.

He smiled back. “I made reservations. Would you join me tonight for dinner?” He offered a hand. There was a bright flutter in Yuuri’s chest, something that soared at Victor’s little smile.

He took Victor’s hand.

Victor started to run and Yuuri followed right along beside him, unable to stop his own grin.

* * *

They would be on the planet for a week before the show. Victor’s hands on approach was very exacting, but the eye for details had always proved more helpful than hurtful. It was his signature touch that had made him famous.

But Victor’s hands were clasped in Yuuri’s. Victor was laying on Yuuri’s chest, sleeping with soft, fluttering breaths that sent his hair stirring gently. His ears were lax and his eyes were closed.

What if Yuuri ruined everything? What if Yuuri’s modelling didn’t measure up to the rest of the show? It wasn’t enough to stomp down the runway in heels and the finest lingerie the galaxy had ever seen--a costume was nothing without a model who could do it justice.

His anxieties must have made his chest jerk, or his breath come sharper and faster, because Victor’s eyes began to open slowly, his long, white lashes fluttering along his cheek.

“Yuuri…?” he murmured softly. “Is something wrong?” He squeezed Yuuri tighter, and his scent flooded over Yuuri in a thick wave.

The weight on Yuuri’s chest was comforting. Victor nuzzled into Yuuri’s neck with soft kisses until Yuuri’s heart slowed. Yuuri clutched at Victor’s hips. “Fuck me,” he murmured. His legs wrapped around Victor’s waist and he rolled them over so he was pinning Victor to the hotel room bed.

Nap time was over.

Victor woke up very quickly after that. They kissed hard and fast, clutching at handfuls of skin and clothes, pulling it out of the way and grabbing for more.

Victor’s cock sank deep inside Yuuri, so thick and long and hard that Yuuri could practically feel it in his throat.

Soulmates. They were soulmates. And yet Yuuri had still never told Victor. He rode Victor hard, burying all the fears and worries into the motion of his hips, until his whole world narrowed down to the feeling of Victor’s hips pumping a massive cock in and out of his body.

He was crying when he finished.

“Yuuri, Yuuri, what’s wrong?” Victor asked. Yuuri shook his head. Victor was a good person. He deserved better than being trapped in a bond if he didn't want it. And Yuuri would prove him that he could be the best mate for Victor if it killed him.

He wiped his tears away and smiled, unable to hold back the laugh. “I'm really excited. I want to do the best I can.”

“I know you will,” Victor said. His tone made Yuuri draw short. Yuuri buried his face, and he took a long, steadying breath. He would. For Victor, he would.

* * *

Everyone who was anyone was here. Yuuri peered out through the wings. The stage was bigger than he was used to.

Phichit was on another stage half a world away.

The entire planet was in the throes of the greatest fashion week in the galaxy, and time didn’t stop for one designer, not even Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri wished his friend the best. He took a steadying breath for his own sake.

Yuuri was coming out first and last, two coveted positions that had other models glaring at him from the rest of the dressing room. They must have supposed it was a sort of species favoritism. Maybe it was because Yuuri’s long rabbit ears and rather androgynous figure made him unique in the world of modeling.

Yuuri expected the jealousy to make him more nervous. But Victor’s hands slid up his spine, checking the fit of the first piece, and Yuuri felt oddly steady. It wasn’t the gorgeous blue and glittery work that would be the show-stopping finale, but the opening piece was no less stunning.

It was stark where the blue wasn’t, sharp on the lines of the straps and the splash of red color lining the inside of a half skirt. A garterbelt held up the fine stockings.

Bondage. Submission. Tantalizing and sexy. Just enough skin exposed to tease, but enough covered in mesh and lace to leave you wanting more.

“Enthrall me,” Victor said. “Show the world what I see every day.”

Yuuri felt lips against his ears. Victor’s scent was claiming and possessive. No human would be able to smell it, but Yuuri reeked of Victor.

Yuuri let his own scent slip out and enfold them both, until Victor smelled just as much like him. _His._ Victor was his. His mate.

“I will,” Yuuri said.

The show began.

The lights and flashes of cameras were almost blinding as Yuuri stepped onstage. Without his glasses, everything became a blur. Yuuri straightened his shoulders. The makeup artist had vainly tried to hide the hickeys and bruises on Yuuri’s skin, but one remained, untouched and impossible to cover completely: the slightly raised ring of teeth impressions over Yuuri’s scent gland, and the matching one on Victor’s throat that was hidden by the suit.

Eagle-eyed reporters might even notice it.

They would know who Victor belonged to, know who had claimed the greatest model and designer of all time. Yuuri grinned at the crowd, devilish in his raw delight, and let his hips roll.

The runway walk was an old favorite of Yuuri’s, but with a touch of flare. Yuuri wondered if Victor would notice the tilt of his head at the end of the runway, the signature tip of a chin that Victor had made famous.

Yuuri rolled his shoulders and turned. Flashes popped frantically to capture every glitter and edge of the lingerie. Yuuri barely hid his helpless grin.

He came backstage breathless and grinning. Yurio was next out, taking the second slot in a piece that was streaming feathers.

“That was beautiful!” Victor crowed, sweeping Yuuri off his feet. Victor pressed soft kisses to Yuuri’s cheeks until he flushed a dark red. Yuuri was elated.

Make up artists were already dragging him away,  and some harried-looking designer working under Victor was already intercepting him, asking for help with a problem that needed immediate attention.

Yuuri was stripped of his costume, and it was a mad dash to replace it in time to touch up his hair and redo the makeup entirely in time for the show-stopping final piece.

Victor was buzzing around the room. No model left the wings without his approval, after all, and the exacting details had left the backstage looking like a warzone as people scrambled to follow Victor’s orders.

This was Victor’s whole life. He was so in his element here, at ease in the rush and chaos and maness of seeing his designs through to the end. Yuuri couldn’t hold him back anymore. There were so many models. So many people better suited to showing off Victor’s peerless designs.

Yuuri was steady as he rose to his feet. Victor checked the fit of the gorgeous piece.

The swarovski crystals glittered in the stark lights of the backstage area. The mock coattails of the back framed Yuuri’s tail and fluttered softly with every motion.

The golden fabric at his midsection set his skin off beautiful, as did the dark blue of the lapel-like folds.

Yuuri’s ears bowed down as a heavy weight settled on his heart.

Time to rip the bandage off.

“Victor, we need to talk.”

“Is the fit wrong?” Victor asked, smoothing his hands over Yuuri’s ass. The coattails were settled flat. Yuuri’s thighs trembled in the cool air. “There’s not much time before the show but I can grab some pins-”

“I can’t keep this from you. You deserve to know the truth,” he said. Victor’s eyes went wide. “I’ll make it fast. When I got suppressants and birth control, I was talking to the doctor. She said we were…” His voice broke. “Well, soulmates, if you believe that. But you don’t need to worry. I’m not going to make this hard for you anymore. After this, we can just end this.”

Victor’s ears stood sharply up, twisting back. “What.”

“I don’t want to stand in the way of your career. I appreciate what you’ve done for me. But you have other models and other people important in your life, and I don’t want to be the person who slows you down.”

Victor’s eyes were glistening. Something sparkled as it slid down his cheek.

“Old Man!” Yurio snapped, stomping forward. “The finale is starting, finish up with the pig and send him out. I’m not letting my debut be ruined like this.”

It was gone just as suddenly as it had started. “You’re right,” Victor said. His voice was steady. Yuuri let out a deep breath. Victor wasn’t showing any signs of reaction. Yuuri didn’t know if it made it worse or better.

There was no time. Yuuri fluffed his hair one last time in the mirror. The coveted last spot of the show.

He went out and gave the best walk of his life.

No one could look away. They were transfixed by every movement of his body, every switch of his hips, the echoing ring of his heels muffled with the sounds of the audience going mad.

This was all for Victor. Every last step was in Victor’s name, for the gift that Victor had given so freely. Yuuri poured all his love into this final walk. It could have been the last walk he ever did, and if it was, Yuuri was going to do it the justice it deserved.

He stepped off the stage and let out a shaky breath. Yurio’s jaw was hanging open. Yuuri glanced around to find Victor, but he was nowhere to be seen. He was walking onstage already, taking his place at the end of the runway to thunderous applause.

“I want to thank you all for coming out here tonight and supporting me during another Linerus Fashion Week,” Victor said, beginning his speech. Yuuri’s eyes were helplessly trapped on Victor, unable to wrench away.

“As I mentioned at the start of the show, the theme of this line was love, of all kinds. Platonic, Playful, Self, Familial, Romantic, Sexual. All of them have important motivations, but the inspiration behind them is sometimes one and the same.

“Sometimes, in life, you lose track of that thing that inspires you. You lose the love. And sometimes the other half of your soul comes into your life, and you step back and realize, oh. This is that thing I’ve been looking for. This is what I’ve been searching for my whole life. This is the person that I would give the world, just to have another minute by their side.”

“For me, clothing is more than just something you put on. It’s an expression of everything you think and feel. These clothes are meant to show the way I feel. And I hope that special someone understands that this is not just a passing fling for me.”

Victor’s eyes traveled away from the crowd, landing on Yuuri in the wings. He held out his hand. His fingers lightly uncurled, extending, reaching. _Come to me_.

“The first time we met, I thought, this is the one. This man is my other half. This is my soulmate. A few months later, I spoke to someone who told me I was right. That my romantic notions weren’t just my imagination. We were meant to be, and I decided then and there that I would fight to protect what we have.”

Yuuri was pulled from the wings, stumbling out as clumsily as a newborn fawn. Victor’s beckoning gesture was drawing him out. He could feel his heart settling heavily in his throat.

“Believe me, Yuuri, when I say that I love you, and I never want this to end.”

“That sounds like a marriage proposal,” Yuuri whispered. Victor’s eyes were sparkling, something hopeful and helpless and so very, very in love staring at him in the too-bright stage lights. Yuuri’s knees trembled.

Victor took his hands, giving them a soft squeeze, and Yuuri’s knees gave out.

This was stupid. A terrible idea. Yuuri had no sense of right and wrong, all he knew was his pounding heart was going to give out if he didn’t do something. From his knees, Yuuri looked up, ears slicking back flush with his head. “Marry me?”

Victor’s lower lip wobbled, and he burst into tears of joy.

…

The wedding was the social event of the century. Every suit and dress was designed by them. It was a gorgeous affair that led to a very long honeymoon and several blissful years of pure joy.

Yuuri retired after a time, taking up designing under Victor’s careful tutelage. Their fame spread across the galaxy. They were two of the most famous Lapaki the galaxy had ever seen, and their brand became a mainstay of the fashion industry.

Things were peaceful. Well, almost.

Yuuri smiled at the little stick in his hands and tossed it in the trash. He stepped out of the bathroom and settled himself in Victor’s lap, straddling his mate’s legs. Victor’s scent swirled around him.

Yuuri groomed Victor’s ears softly for several minutes, before laughing softly to himself.

“Mmm, Victor, I think I want to come out of retirement.”

Victor’s eyes went wide. He was already scrambling for his sketchpad. “Really? You want to model again? I have so many ideas-” Yuuri pinned Victor back down onto the couch, smiling wider.

“Not so fast, Victor. I've already signed on with Yuuko. It won’t be for long. I’ll only be gone for a week, and it won’t be until a few months from now,” he said.

Victor blinked. “Why Yuuko? She only does maternity clothes-” he broke off. Stared for a moent His mouth gaped, open and shut. “Yuuri. No. You’re not-”

Yuuri grins.

Breathlessly, he said, “I am, Victor. We're having kits. We're going to have a family.”

Victor let out a near-hysterical sound as he started to rub Yuuri's belly, kissing and cooing. Victor’s tail was twitching wildly with joy. “Kits,” Victor said, awed.

Yuuri kissed the ring on Victor’s hand before kissing his husband on the lips. Once upon a time, Yuuri thought this life would never be in reach. He thought it would be the end.

But this was only the beginning for them, and falling down the rabbithole into Victor’s world had made all the difference.

 


End file.
